


know that you heard me

by honeyvoiced



Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Friends With Benefits, Porn With Very Little Plot, Sexual Frustration, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29300205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyvoiced/pseuds/honeyvoiced
Summary: She was high-strung, and jumpy, and all of it only made it more difficult to manage all of the inconveniences she’d been faced with that she would have been able to handle much more easily were she getting the right kind of de-stressing treatment.
Relationships: Kirby Anders/Fallon Carrington
Comments: 11
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is only a prologue to set this fic up but I know that if I start posting it I'll actually keep updating it. Thank you Amanda for beta-reading as usual ♡

Fallon woke up on Tuesday morning with a crick in her neck so severe that she was convinced she was paralyzed, unable to lift her head or roll over to reach for her phone to turn off her ‘last chance before you’re late’ alarm. Still, she convinced herself as she rushed through her shower and applied her makeup with adrenaline-shaking hands that it would be a better day than the previous had been. 

Calling Monday a disaster would have been polite and gentle when compared with the reality of what it was. One of her meetings with a potential investor had cancelled for the third time, which she was sure was a sign that she was being blown off completely in the most cowardly way possible; Allison’s work phone needed to be replaced, and the replacement came damaged; and then, at the end of the day, legs aching and mind exhausted, Fallon had trekked down to the ground floor of the  _ Fallon Unlimited  _ office on her own, because the elevator had broken down.

Sweating, and uncomfortably sticky in her then-itchy clothing, she’d gotten to her car to find a parking ticket for improperly placing her pass in her window, which while inexpensive was an additional errand to add to her planner for the upcoming week. She'd gone to her room without dinner once she was home, trying desperately to wash away some of the bad energy that had clearly been stuck to her all day in a hot bubble bath with a glass - or three - of wine, and even though she was comfortably tipsy and warm by the time she crawled hungrily into her bed to fall asleep early, this morning it still seemed like Fallon hadn't quite managed to shake off the negativity. 

She burned the roof of her mouth as she chugged her coffee waiting for her on the dining room table, nearly breaking the empty mug in her haste to set it back down and juggle her jacket, purse, and phone. 

Kirby didn't even look up from her newspaper when Fallon rushed in, her eyes staying trained on the page as she addressed her.

"Have a good day."

Fallon paused, straightening up to her full height and regarding the other woman with a tired sort of attempt to seem haughty.

"I doubt it."

Making a sympathetic clicking noise in the back of her throat, Kirby reached blindly for her own coffee and took a leisurely sip. The audacity for her to be so relaxed - without a place to be or a care in the world - nearly made Fallon want to slap her, but she reined it in, taking a deep calming breath. It wasn't Kirby's fault that Fallon had been so out of sorts.

"You're not eating?" She asked.

"I'm late," Fallon replied shortly. She pulled her jacket onto her shoulders, juggling her other items, then turned to head out, only to be stopped by Kirby's next words.

"I'll bring you something in a little bit. I have to go downtown, anyway." 

Softening, Fallon paused her rushing movements for a moment and then nodded, albeit a little surprisedly.

"I - thank you." Checking her phone one more time, she groaned at the time and turned on her heel. "I have to go. I'll see you later."

Even though her car had just been brought around and the hood was still hot, it wouldn't start once Fallon climbed into the passenger seat until she'd tried to turn the engine over three separate times. Finally getting it going, and praying that when she left the office at the end of the day it wouldn't give her similar trouble, she headed off of the sprawling Carrington property towards her office space downtown. 

Mercifully, the morning was uneventful.

Staving off her hunger from missing breakfast with multiple cups of tea and coffee, along with throwing herself into her work, Fallon was pleased to realize that she had nearly doubled her productivity, making up for the day before and helping ease her lingering guilt and anxiety about falling behind. Her email inbox was refreshing faster than she could keep up, though - even with Allison screening and sorting all of the incoming messages before they reached Fallon, there was still a lot to work through, and it kept her mind busy enough to lose track of the time.

As if her prayers for some less-boring correspondence to come through were being answered, Fallon refreshed her email one more time and quickly clicked on the newest message without pausing to read the subject. She realized immediately what it was - proofs for a shoot that they'd done almost a month prior for an upcoming issue of the print magazine.

She clicked through each photo one by one, squinting critically at each to check for any flaws that the retoucher had missed out on. The photographer they'd hired had a good eye, though - and the couple that they'd shot had on-camera chemistry that would have been impossible to fake if Fallon had gone with her first choice of models; it seemed that deal falling through had been a blessing in disguise. 

On her screen, a woman and her new husband watched each other in adoration, faces frozen in an almost-laugh; in the next photo it was spilling out of her, her husband's unshaven face tucked into the side of her neck. 

' _ NO COMPROMISE _ ,' read the minimalist italic title superimposed over the next photo, ' _ Giving it up without giving up _ '.

An article on maintaining a fulfilling sex life and a  _ Fortune 500 _ company - the idea had seemed a little too late-2000s  _ Cosmopolitan _ for Fallon when it had been pitched to her at first, but it had tested well, and she wasn't in any position to deny a good market trend. 

Not to mention how bitter she would have sounded if she'd turned it down.

It wasn't that she didn't have options. She could have walked into any after-hours spot and picked whoever she wanted from the crowd like it were a catalogue, and she'd thought about doing it often, but the problem was that she continued to be so exhausted after work that there wasn't any time to go out. Even if she did manage to squeeze herself into something low-cut and short, she was pretty sure she'd fall asleep halfway through the act - assuming she found anyone she even wanted to bring home in the first place. 

The next problem that was presented in this particular hypothesis was that, even if she  _ did _ manage to jump through all of the hoops of finding someone suitable -  _ and _ getting them home while staying awake - there was the added, horrifying fear of the entire thing being unsatisfying anyway. Despite the other disappointments that her previous lovers had presented her with, she'd had a string of very good luck in finding multiple people that had managed to hit the sweet spot of being both attractive to her and able to perform. Even with those men, it had taken them a little trial-and-error to get to know her - and she certainly wasn’t afraid to ask for what she wanted - and even worse was the work on  _ her  _ end to get to know  _ them.  _ She wasn’t  _ selfish _ . She’d received more than her fair share of good press about how giving and accommodating she could be behind closed doors, but the mere thought of having to start over and learn an entire new person was exhausting. 

What she needed was a break from her under-performing, abused jackrabbit. She’d stopped letting herself keep track of how many days it had been since she’d managed to even satisfy herself, which was a separate humiliation all on its own.

What she  _ needed _ was chemistry like in the photos on her screen that she had been staring at until her eyes glazed over.

The underlying frustration of her personal-record dry spell was certainly at least one of the causes of the string of bad days she’d been having, and deep down she knew that. She was high-strung and jumpy, and all of it only made it more difficult to manage all of the inconveniences she’d been faced with that she would have been able to handle much more easily were she getting the right kind of de-stressing treatment.

“ _ Ms. Carrington? _ ”

Allison’s voice through her desktop intercom made Fallon stiffen in her seat - that jumpiness, again - before she scrambled to exit the email she’d been looking at as though being caught doing something wrong.

“Uh - yes. Allison. What is it?”

“Kirby Anders is here to see you.”

Her stomach lurched hungrily as she remembered the redhead's promise that morning, and she felt her mood instantly improve as she pushed her seat back and stood up from her desk.

"Tell her I'll be right out to bring her in."

Closing her laptop and reaching for her now-empty coffee cup, she swiped it into the trash can beside her seat and straightened her skirt, heading for the door. If only one thing went right for the day, it would be Kirby keeping her promise; at least she had that.


	2. Chapter 2

Kirby seemed to exude energy - at least, in comparison to how Fallon felt - when she spotted her waiting patiently by the reception area with a couple of glass containers stacked neatly in her hands. Fallon felt a rare tug of affection in her chest at the sight of her, a tiny hint of her earlier annoyance being melted away by the reminder that at least  _ someone _ was looking out for her, approaching her and reaching out for the food.

"Late breakfast, as promised," Kirby announced, smiling easily as she passed the containers over. 

It still looked appetizing - she'd picked out a couple halves of particularly fluffy-looking waffles, some fresh fancily-carved fruit, and something wrapped tightly in tin foil that was steaming up the side of one of the containers.  _ Probably bacon _ . Fallon's mouth watered a little before she remembered the context she'd be eating in - at her desk, alone, surrounded by work. She squashed the preemptive disappointment and handed the containers over the top of the desk to Allison, instead.

"Can you put this aside from me?" Turning her attention back to Kirby, she nodded towards the door she'd come in through. "As much as I appreciate it, I could actually use a change of scenery. Let’s go for lunch - I'll buy."

"Oh yeah?" Kirby replied, one eyebrow ticking upward. "Must be a special occasion. But I won't turn that offer down." 

Shooting Allison a wink, she turned on her heel and barely waited for Fallon before heading back for the door.

As they approached Fallon's car, she remembered her earlier issues with it and said a silent prayer as she slid into the driver's seat and reached for the press-ignition. It struggled to life on the second attempt, and Fallon pretended not to see the concerned quizzical look that the woman in her passenger's side seat was giving her.

"I'm thinking  _ F & B _ ," she suggested, hoping to moderate the conversation in the right direction before Kirby could ask any questions.

"Whatever you like, you said it’s your treat," Kirby replied, flicking through the screens on her phone and syncing it up to the Bluetooth in the car. Normally the overly comfortable way Kirby seemed to just insinuate herself into Fallon's life wherever she felt like would have been annoying, but even as some incoherent, unrecognizable punky-sounding pop song began to play quietly throughout the car, Fallon felt herself relaxing a little more. Kirby being mildly annoying was  _ familiar  _ \- it made sense, unlike everything else going on in her life at the time. 

Traffic wasn't as bad as Fallon had been expecting. It was peak business-lunch hours, but they made it to the restaurant in good time and were seated without being given a chance to ask for a wait time.

“So?” Kirby asked, once their server left them to get their drinks from the bar. “What is it? The occasion?”

She gestured between the two of them at the table, and Fallon shook her head innocently.

“No occasion. Just feeling a little… cramped, in the office.”

Kirby made a sympathetic noise in the back of her throat - the same one she had when she’d realized Fallon was skipping breakfast that morning - but this time pushed it.

“Yeah? Bad week?”

“The worst,” Fallon admitted with a sigh. She waved one hand dismissively, as if trying to swipe invisible stressors out of the air between them. “I just need…”

Their server reappeared with their drinks, and Kirby took hers without taking her eyes off of Fallon. She leaned in a little closer, listening intently as she blindly took a sip from the straw. 

“I need to get through this whole mess at work and then I think I’ll be alright.”

Dropping her gaze to the menu, Kirby shrugged before turning her attention to their server instead. She ordered, waiting patiently as Fallon did the same, and then picked up their conversation where it had left off before they’d been interrupted.

“You say that a lot. There’s always  _ some  _ mess. What’re you doing in the meantime?”

“What do you mean?” Fallon asked.

“I mean… to manage the stress  _ while  _ you’re dealing with it? Like… a pampering routine, or something? Self-care - ever heard of it?”

Pursing her lips thoughtfully, Fallon held one hand out in front of her and eyed her nails.

“I could go for a manicure.”

“Yeah,” Kirby huffed. “Another appointment and then something  _ else  _ to maintain. Not exactly what I meant.” 

“Well then what  _ did  _ you mean?” Fallon tried not to snap back, feeling her own impatience and irritation seeping into her tone. 

“Y’know.” If Kirby was bothered by Fallon’s tone, she didn’t show it. “Like a quiet night in. Leave work at work? Catch up on your  _ Netflix _ queue or something. Turn your phone off.”

Snorting in disbelief, Fallon rolled her eyes and then reached for her own drink.

“Or drown, I guess,” Kirby dismissed. Her tone was a little too smug for Fallon’s taste - a little too aware that she was absolutely right, not that the brunette would ever admit that. 

“I can’t afford the time off to relax,” she explained. “It would be great to leave work at work, but then there’s just even more to worry about when I go back.”

“Maybe you should hire an on-site masseuse for the office,” Kirby suggested playfully.

“It’s not a terrible idea,” Fallon replied. She knew that the redhead hadn’t meant it as a genuine idea, but it probably wouldn’t be too difficult to find room in the budget - that being said, the research and work involved in  _ that  _ would only be adding to her already overwhelming list of tasks. “Eugh, seriously. It’ll be fine. I just have to get past it.”

“Should I be worried about you?”

Kirby’s question surprised her. It  _ sounded  _ playful and flippant, but when Fallon looked up and caught her eye, she could tell that hidden underneath her delivery was real concern. More surprising than that, though, was the urge to lie - and not for any of her usual reasoning of wanting to appear composed. She  _ really  _ just wanted to ease that look of concern so the other woman felt better.

“I…  _ no.  _ It’ll pass. And soon - one of the ten thousand things I have to do is find a second assistant, but once I do, it should be a little smoother sailing.” 

Their server arrived again before she could further grapple with  _ that  _ feeling, placing their plates in front of them and subtly setting the check between them. Fallon slid it towards herself and tucked it beside her plate, watching as the redhead used her butter knife to gently flick the unwanted cherry tomatoes from her salad to the side of her plate, not bothering to flag down a server to correct the error for her.

“Maybe you could multi-task,” she tried, clearly not ready to drop the subject. “Yoga while you’re on a call or something.”

“That’s not -” Fallon shook her head, stabbing into a piece of chicken on her plate and then using it to point at the other woman as she opened her mouth to elaborate before Kirby cut her off.

“You know what you should do?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“Get laid. It’s been what, like, a year?”

Fallon choked, clapping a hand to her chest to relieve the sudden sharp pain that the combination of chicken and her cocktail had turned into. 

_ “Kirby.” _

“What!” The other woman laughed, eyeing her over the rim of her glass. “I’m just saying. Sometimes the best stress release is, y’know.  _ Release.” _

“First of all, I’m not discussing this with you,” Fallon hissed, feeling the heat climbing up her neck into her face. Kirby, unbothered, speared up a couple of leaves from her salad and leaned forward in her seat curiously. “Secondly, even if I  _ was  _ going to discuss it with you, it wouldn’t matter. If I’m too busy to handle everything else going on,  _ why  _ would you think I’d have time to find a suitable…”

She trailed off, not needing to finish. 

“I meant taking matters into your own hands, if you’re going to make me say it out loud,” Kirby told her, her bold words softened by her calm and cool demeanour.

_ “Oh my god,”  _ Fallon dropped her fork to bury her face in her palms for a moment, then shook her head. “We’re dropping this now.” 

Putting up both hands in defense, Kirby was the picture of innocence, save for the telltale hint of a smirk still on her features as she leaned back away from the table.

“Fine. We should probably get you back to the office, though.”

Realizing that her two options were  _ work  _ or  _ talking about getting off,  _ Fallon groaned quietly in defeat but nodded in agreement. 

“You’re right.” Flipping the checkbook beside her open and tucking her card inside without looking twice at the total, she slid it to the edge of the table and gestured at their server to make his way back over. Turning her attention back to Kirby, she nodded to her plate. “You want to pack the rest of that up?” 

Pulling her purse off of the back of her seat, she shook her head with a smile then nodded in return to Fallon’s plate. 

“You should take that back with you, though. You’re going to need the energy.”

Looking down at her half-finished entree, Fallon felt an uncomfortable tug in her stomach at the idea of finishing it in front of her computer yet again.

“I still have the leftovers you brought me, I’ll eat that,” she lied. 

Kirby eyed her thoughtfully as she stood, and for a moment Fallon was sure she was going to call her on it or chastise her, but the moment passed, and she dropped her gaze to straighten her jacket instead.

“If you say so,” she sniffed.

Their server seemed to materialize, startling Fallon - she was even more tense than she’d realized - and handed her card back wordlessly after it was swiped. The whole restaurant seemed suddenly more cramped and cloying, and as they stepped outside, she took a deep breath to steel her nerves for the rest of the day. 

“D’you want me to drop you off somewhere else?” She asked as she and Kirby slid into her car.

“No, I have some shopping to do anyway. I’ll head back with you and walk.”

Raising her eyebrows, but not pushing the subject, Fallon turned the key in the ignition and said a silent prayer of thanks when the car started with no issue on the first try - the first real moment of grace she’d felt all day. Maybe the rest of the afternoon would follow suit.


	3. Chapter 3

Fallon returned home considerably later than she’d planned to. 

The sun had already begun setting by the time she pulled her car up to the top of the long, twisting drive of the manor and she’d handed her keys off to have it put away. 

“I’ll need that serviced before I leave at seven tomorrow,” she insisted, barely looking back as she wearily stomped up to the front door and let herself in. The foyer bustled with activity - staff cleaned around her, and the sounds of conversation and laughter came from the direction of the casual dining room. The idea of a hot meal was tempting, but knowing it would be ruined by having to socialize through her sour mood and exhaustion turned her off entirely. As Anders passed, Fallon stopped him in his tracks and requested that a tray be sent up to her room before making her way towards the massive staircase - her next challenge. She only made it halfway up the flight before she began taking off her heels, her posture slouching as she pulled off her blazer. She was considerably more undone by the time she reached her bedroom, too tired to close the door behind herself before collapsing face down on her bed and groaning miserably into the pillow. 

For a moment, all she could hear was her head pounding, her heart hitting roughly against the inside of her ribs - she had been skipping her workouts in favour of work as of late, and the trek up the stairs without any energy had taken more out of her than she’d realized. The bed was temptingly soft under her cheek and hands, but she forced herself to stand, desperate to get out of her constricting clothes from the day and into something more comfortable. It was barely seven o’clock, but she headed into the closet to find a pair of cashmere pajamas and eased her sore feet into a vintage pair of silk slippers that had been a hand-me-down from Alexis years ago. 

The workload was being slowly whittled down - the overtime helped - but it felt like even as she got ahead of schedule, she would be held back by something else going unexpectedly wrong. Still, she’d - almost desperately - tried to admit her own helplessness to the universe when it came to things like her car trying to drop dead or the power at the office flickering in and out from nearby construction. 

Carrying her robe into the bedroom and tossing it onto the bed for later, Fallon finally noticed the delicately wrapped gift box sitting on the nightstand to the right of her bed. 

It wasn’t labelled and there was no card, and Fallon immediately knew it had to have been hand-delivered by whoever it was from. None of the staff would have entered her room to put it there without her express permission. She was surprised by its heaviness as she picked it up, feeling whatever was inside slide to one side of the box and unbalance it in her hand. As if in slow-motion it tumbled from her hands, the thin tissue paper tearing away and remaining clutched in her hand as the box hit the floor. The lid fell open and its contents rolled out onto the floor - more crumpled tissue paper, and a smooth pearlescent-glittering Tiffany-blue dildo. 

She stared at it in shock for a moment, her mind exploding into a thousand thoughts at once, then sudden, absolute silence. Her ears started ringing as she leaned down slowly, bones creaking in protest, and picked it up gingerly as if expecting it to bite. She held it out at arm’s length pinched between two fingers, turning it back and forth to inspect it with pursed lips before noting with a sigh of relief that the plastic ‘remove before use’ tab was still sticking out of the base of the toy. It was new, at least.

Her thoughts started to wander again, confusion making way for embarrassment, and unfortunately amusement. She knew approximately three people that would  _ ever  _ be this bold or over-familiar with her - only two were in the manor, and only  _ one  _ had she recently divulged her frustrations to. She wanted to feel offended, but it was unfortunately hilarious. 

A knock on her doorframe almost startled her into dropping it again, whirling around and tucking it behind her back with both hands to stare, wide-eyed, at Anders standing in the doorway clutching a tray in both hands.

“Oh.”

Unperturbed by her less-than-warm greeting, Anders smiled tightly and then stepped inside, following Fallon’s direction as she jutted her chin towards the small table near her window. 

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Is there anything else I can get for you?” 

“No,” Fallon replied, hearing her nervousness, but unable to stop it from seeping into her words. “Just… some peace and quiet. And a wake-up call for six, tomorrow.”

Nodding once, Anders pulled the lid from the plate on the tray, wafting the mouth-watering scent of fresh pheasant and garden-fresh vegetables into the space between the two of them. He left without another word, and Fallon waited until she heard the door  _ actually  _ click closed behind him before taking her hands out from behind her back and retrieving the box from the floor. Cramming the toy back into it and messily shoving the lid shut, she tucked it into the drawer of her nightstand and pushed it closed. She was about to settle in when another knock at her door drew a frustrated growl from the back of her throat and she all but stomped over to answer it.

Smiling brightly on the other side of the door as it was wrenched open, Kirby rocked onto the balls of her feet and then held one hand out.

“Forgot your fork. I said I’d bring it up, it was on my way.”

Her smile immediately fell as she took in Fallon’s appearance - she hadn’t looked in the mirror yet, but if she looked half as rough as she felt, she understood the concern.

“Are you alright?”

“Hungry. Tired.” She took the fork, holding it up in gesture. “Thanks.”

“Hm,” Kirby nodded once in understanding before the tiniest hint of a smile ghosted over her face. “You just got in, then?”

“Yes,” Fallon replied, cocking her head to the side and then narrowing her eyes. “I got your gift.”

“Oh, you did!” 

“Mhm. Thanks.” Stepping back and moving to shut the door, Fallon shook her head and tried to roll her eyes, but the smile had unfortunately forced itself onto her face, and the other woman laughed as she realized she had succeeded in her ‘prank’. “Goodnight, Kirby.”

She heard her continue laughing as she stepped away from the door and it clicked closed between them once more. She had to admit the consistent concern was nice, even if it was covered up by light-hearted mockery. Not to mention, it  _ was _ a useful gift - not that she wanted to admit it.

For the time being, she had to eat, answer some emails, and hopefully make it into her actual bed before falling asleep.

* * *

The following two days passed by in such a sludgy haze that Fallon found herself losing track of what day of the week it was more than once, mixing up dates and needing her attention to be called multiple times in order to snap her out of her own thoughts. She trudged through, though, taking three interviews - all disappointments - for her second assistant before passing the task off onto Allison instead. Her backlog of paperwork and unanswered emails dwindled without rebuilding, and by the time Fallon was making her way home - actually on time for dinner - on Friday evening, she was beginning to feel a little better. Mentally, at least. Her muscles were screaming for a deep-tissue massage and her head was throbbing from dehydration and exhaustion. She ate in near-silence with Blake, only the two of them being home for once, and after requesting an aspirin and bottle of wine be brought upstairs, she headed to her room to finally relax.

She was trying not to feel too smug about being ahead of work, not wanting to jinx her string of decent luck productivity-wise. She thought about what Kirby had suggested - some yoga, maybe, or a quiet night in with a drink, a book, a bath, or any combination of those three. She heard the telltale sound of glass on hardwood - the wine being placed outside of her door by a staff member - and made her way over to retrieve it. As she passed her nightstand, she paused, staring at the top drawer - unopened since she’d opened her ‘gift’ from Kirby the other night - and let her mind wander momentarily.

It could be good for the headache, at least.  _ Self-care _ and all that.

Retrieving the wine and locking the bedroom door, she headed over to the nightstand and pulled the drawer open, peering inside almost nervously as if she’d expected the toy to have grown legs and walked away, sick of being neglected, but she breathed a sigh of relief and pulled it out, testing its weight in her hand again. 

It was silky soft in her hand, obviously a higher-end choice, and the color was pretty enough to make it feel like a shame that it was wasted on an object that would never see the light of day as decor. Whirling around nervously at the sound of footsteps outside of her room, Fallon clutched the wine bottle in one hand and dildo in the other, eyes wide in horror before the footsteps vanished, continuing down the hall. She was suddenly overcome by a wave of burning tightness in her back and shoulders, her stomach tensing and protesting at how quickly she’d moved without a full hour of stretching beforehand.

Pursing her lips and hissing through the pain, she turned her attention to the toy once more as she set the bottle down carefully on top of the nightstand. It wasn’t a particularly intimidating size, but there was still no way that she was going to fit it inside herself, let alone get any enjoyment out of it given how physically tense she was. Maybe Kirby had been onto something with the bubble bath idea - besides, she was nothing if not a romantic, even if the only person who would be on the receiving end would be herself. Soaking and having a glass of wine to let the stress of the day melt off first would be the first step. 

She poured a healthy amount of rose and lavender salt under the running water in the en-suite soaking tub, staying seated on the fluffy rug beside it for a few moments to inhale the steam and psych herself up to get back onto her feet. If the evening didn’t help enough, she’d have to remember to book a massage at the earliest possible opportunity. She hadn’t stepped foot in a spa in too long for comfort. 

The bright lights of the bathroom were harsh on her eyes, so as she painfully pushed herself back to her feet she headed back into the bedroom to find the basket of candles in the back of her closet, puttering around quietly with only the sound of running water to keep her thoughts from becoming too loud.

The whole vibe was considerably sexier by the time she was stripping away her clothing and stepping gingerly into the tub, being quickly enveloped under warm water and bubbles, the soft glow from the dozen candles she’d spread around the room pairing nicely with the soft music playing from her phone on the counter across the room. 

Her thoughts drifted back to the office as she piled her hair on top of her head and pinned it in place, leaning back against the edge of the tub and closing her eyes. It was impossible for her to leave work at work - she had always been that way - but now she forced herself to, mentally walking through shutting off her computer, closing the filing cabinets, and pushing aside the stacks of papers and forms on the desk to kick her feet up instead. Even in her version of her office in her mind, though, she was interrupted, waving Allison in but hardly focusing on what she was saying. She’d been distracting, that day. She had done a terrible job of covering up the hickey that was low on her neck, peeking out from behind a mess of foundation and the collar of the woman’s top. 

Allison, bless her, was always a professional. If Fallon didn’t know her any better, she’d have thought she was some kind of zero-fun, anxiety-riddled little robot that thought of nothing except work with no real life of her own. She  _ did  _ have a life, though, Fallon had eventually learned.  _ And  _ a girlfriend - a brick wall of muscle and a thick Swedish accent to add to the intimidation factor. She played soccer -  _ not  _ an Atlantix fan, Fallon learned - and if she hadn’t come by the office to pick Allison up after a particularly long evening of overtime, Fallon would have never assumed the two of them were together. With a little jolt of jealousy, Fallon realized that while she was alone in her bathtub planning a date with a new vibrator, later, and unable to stop picturing work, Allison had probably shut down her work brain as soon as she’d walked out the door earlier and was likely at home, relaxed, getting laid.

_ Well,  _ she thought bitterly.  _ At least someone was. _

Shoving the thought from her head altogether, she took a generous sip of wine and then set the bottle aside, laying her head back and dropping her hands beneath the surface of the water. 

She conjured up abstract memories, faceless strangers, particularly exciting moments from trysts past, things that were tucked into the back of her mind she’d never quite been able to push herself to ask for…  _ much better. _

Her muscles loosened, the tension slipping away from her stomach and legs and shoulders before returning in a considerably more pleasant fashion. It  _ had  _ been a while, Kirby wasn’t wrong. Trying not to get too ahead of herself, she sat up and reached for the drain, blowing out the nearest candle before stepping out of the tub and pulling her robe loosely over her shoulders. Flicking the light on and squinting as her eyes failed to adjust quickly enough, Fallon made her way around the room, blowing out each candle in turn before grabbing her phone and shutting off her music abruptly before heading out of the en-suite and nearly diving into the bed. 

Grabbing  _ it _ \- still laying innocently on the side of the bed she didn’t normally sleep on - Fallon rolled it around in her hand to find the controls, ripping the tab out from the battery and then holding down on the power button until it blinked, the little light cutting through the darkness of the room to let her know it was ready when she was.

Tugging her lower lip into her mouth and biting down to make sure the only sound that escaped was the quiet hiss of her exhaling, she experimentally traced two fingers around herself and pressed, eyes fluttering closed comfortably. The word  _ ‘finally’  _ flashed in her mind, but she ignored it.

Easing the end of the toy into herself slowly, she winced at the cold, but pressed forward, experimentally shifting her hips once she was settled and then taking a deep breath, her gaze flickering over to the door one last time. It remained closed - she  _ had  _ locked it after all - so she fumbled around at the shaft of the toy for the button and pressed down.

She let out a strangled sound of surprise as the buzzing sound filled all of her senses, momentarily setting her teeth on edge. It sounded deafeningly loud to her, but she shoved the paranoia away knowing that it was only in her head. For just a minute, the sensation was overwhelming, her thighs clamping closed around her hand. The more she focused on the feeling the more overwhelming it was, reminding her of the tingling feeling in her stomach while having a dream about flying or hitting her funny bone at just the right angle to not hurt but to render her entire arm useless.

She almost wanted to start giggling at the absurdity, but as her stomach tensed in anticipation of laughter an entirely new,  _ much  _ more pleasant sensation took over and she let her legs fall back open again, using her free hand to reach up and cup at her breast - gentle, almost nervous, like it was the first time. It was much easier than she’d been anticipating to start the familiar climb up to bliss, her back arching from the bed as she found a new angle to gently rock the shaft of the toy in and out of herself and saw stars behind her squeezed-shut eyes. She’d have to buy Kirby a fucking bouquet of flowers in thanks. 

Right, Kirby. It was hard not to think about her - the toy was almost sullied, really -  _ was she being horrible by actually using it? It was obviously supposed to be a joke and now she was actually -  _

She tensed up in an entirely different way, then. Her mind startled, cold sweat seeming to explode off of her instantly and leaving her shivering, heart pounding uncomfortably in her chest as her eyes snapped open. She’d fallen off, just like that. She was numb all over; the buzzing between her legs was mocking her. 

Glaring at the ceiling, she pulled it free and shut it off, blinking back the tears of frustration and anger that suddenly sprung up in the corners of her eyes, followed by the subsequent tears of embarrassment at her own reaction. Without giving herself much time to dwell too hard, she headed into the bathroom and flung the dildo into the sink at the vanity, whirling around on her heel to head back to bed before she could lament any further and buried herself under the covers.

She was desperate to let her exhaustion overtake her and put her to sleep before she could begin her overthinking routine. She was grateful for the following morning off, at least, though for once, the distraction of throwing herself into work would have been welcome.


End file.
